


Impossible Dreams

by goddessofcruelty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reverse 'Verse, Alternate universe - Mafia, Biting, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Comeplay, D/s, M/M, Marking, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Rape/Non-con Elements, Ritual Public Sex, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:52:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought this was a no names kind of place.” He's proud that his voice is steady and calm.<br/>“It's awful hard to forget such a pretty face, especially one that I wouldn't mind seeing looking up at me.”<br/>It's heavy-handed and blunt as come-ons go, but it has the benefit of coming from a guy who looks like the perfect blend of sex and violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Derek stares at his uncle, and then looks at his boss. “This is a terrible idea.”

Alan Deaton arches a brow. “You got a better one?”

Peter leans back in his chair, smoothing a tie that has to cost more than Derek makes in a month.

“You're his type. And it's the only chink we've found in two years of trying.”

“Man, that whole Homeland Security umbrella reaches further and further ever day, doesn't it?”

“Derek, they're selling guns to terrorist organizations.”

“Of course they are _Senator_ Hale.” Derek's tone makes the honorific an insult. “It's still a stupid plan.”

“It's simple, but not stupid. You've never done undercover work before, so you'll just be you.”

“You're going to destroy my entire life, everything that I've worked for, throw me to the mafia, and hope that I might be the type of a guy who's _picture_ you can't even seem to procure?”

Peter rises. “You're his type. That intel I'm absolutely certain of.” He rests a hand on Derek's arm. “Stiles will find you.”

Peter strides through the doorway, and people get out of his way. He's a very important, very busy man after all, and Peter could have every one of them fired if he wanted.

Not that he does want to, Peter could care less about anything except his last remaining family member.  Whose life he has just agreed to ruin.

He wishes that he could tell Derek the truth. He wishes that he could confess his own deep, _deep_ attachment to the mob. But it has to be this way.

Because there's no force on earth that could make him give that up.

-

“ _You're Senator Hale, right?”_

_Peter looks up into a pair of pale blue eyes, and is lost._

_“I thought this was a no names kind of place.” He's proud that his voice is steady and calm._

“ _It's awful hard to forget such a pretty face,_ especially _one that I wouldn't mind seeing looking up at me.”_

_It's heavy-handed and blunt as come-ons go, but it has the benefit of coming from a guy who looks like the perfect blend of sex and violence._

“ _What makes you think I'd get down on my knees for you?” Peter's still managing to keep himself under control fairly well, he thinks._

 _Until the man leans in to whisper into his ear, one hand palming the Senator's crotch as he does so. “This does,_ boy _.”_

_Peter can't repress the shiver that runs down his spine, because he fucking wants to drop down right here in front of god and everybody, but he didn't get to be a Senator by not having any self-control._

“ _I'll take that under consideration. Why don't you leave me your number and if I feel the need to scratch that particular itch, I will think about giving you a call?”_

_The man sits down across from Peter, eyes narrowed faintly as if Peter's a puzzle for him to solve. He raises a hand to call a waiter over, and orders a drink, studying the younger man a long while._

“ _My name's Chris Argent and I'm a Hunter.”_

_Peter leans back, relaxing as he takes his turn to study the other man. By the way the other man says 'Hunter', and Peter can hear the capital letter, it obviously means something more to him than it does to the Senator._

_He's just about to admit defeat and ask, when the man leans forward slightly and volunteers the information. “I hunt people down.” Those gorgeous eyes watch Peter for a reaction. “For a Family back in New York.”_

-

Derek knows it's coming, has known for weeks but it's still a shock when one of the guys from the DEA comes marching in with fucking federal agents and arrests him in front of his partner.

He hasn't been given any instructions, so he gives them a hard time, because Derek is still pissed about this whole deal. He has no idea if they're in the know or not, and frankly he doesn't care.

Boyd is arguing with the detective, who's waving a warrant in his face, and Derek is yelling at the guys who've got him cuffed, and it's making enough noise that the Captain emerges from his office.

And Derek has to admit that if he didn't know that Deaton was in on the plan, he wouldn't have guessed. Because he gives his usual bluster, invites them all into the conference room to talk this over, gives the guys a lecture about going through proper channels, all the things he would have done normally.

But in the end, Derek Hale is taken through the squad room, and one of the guys throws a jacket to hide his face because there are fucking reporters outside. Of fucking course, because Peter is a such big deal, and is he ever glad that his mother isn't living to see this day.

By the time he gets through booking and all the other paperwork, which just makes him more and more numb, because while all this might not actually be real, it fucking _feels_ real, Derek is closer to crying than he's been since his family's funeral.

He's gotten in the habit of going to a particular bar after work for the past three weeks, on a specific schedule that the feds have given him. So once his life is done being torn to shreds, Derek heads there automatically.

“You're in early today.”

Derek turns to see the kid who had hit on him the other night settle in next to him. He looks away from those pretty eyes.

“Rough day.”

“Aw, sorry to hear that. Let me buy you a drink.”

“Look, I'm not interested.” It's a lie but Derek is on a case, and he doubts that hooking up with a random stranger is going to help him find this Stiles guy.

“That is a lie, my friend.” The dude pats him on the shoulder then hands a twenty to the bartender. “This is for his drinks tonight.”

Derek is staring at the guy, nonplussed, until he points to the television in the corner. “Enjoy your drinks, Officer Hale.”

Derek snaps his head around to see, yes that's his face plastered all over the news. “Fuck me,” he says as he buries his face in his hands.

“I thought you weren't interested...” The voice is laughing and drifting away, and by the time Derek lifts his head, the kid is gone.

_What a weird guy._

Derek drinks the kid's twenty's worth though.

-

_Peter considers a moment, eyes narrowing as he meets the faintly amused gaze. To be fair, he'd already considered 'hitman' as a possible occupation for the guy. He...Chris...looks the part._

“ _I'm going to assume that you're not here for me, as I'm not aware of having done anything recently to upset your...superiors.”_

 _Chris smirks. “I didn't come in here looking for you. But now, now Peter, I am one hundred percent here for_ you _.”_

_And Peter's absolutely certain that his expression didn't change, but Chris' eyes flash as if he's heard Peter's heart skip._

“ _If you're considering blackmail, it won't work.” Peter finishes his drink and sets the glass down on the table. “My preferences are well known. And I can't be bought.”_

“ _Senator Hale.” Chris leans forward, sincerity in every line of his body. “The things I want to do to you have_ nothing _to do with either of our jobs.”_

_He holds Peter's eyes until the younger man nods, and then pulls out a blank business card and writes a number on it._

“ _I'm leaving town tonight. I won't be back for a few weeks. You call me after that, and I will come to wherever you are.”_

_Chris rises and Peter finds himself rising too, reaching out to take the proffered card._

_Chris invades his space and Peter thinks that the hunter is going to whisper into his ear again, but he simply latches on to Peter's neck and sucks hard._

_Peter knows he's going to have to wear high collared shirts for a week, but right now he doesn't fucking care. Because there's a direct line from Chris' mouth on his neck going straight to his dick, and he's so hard that his jeans are tight as hell now._

_It doesn't help that Chris' hand finds its way down and rubs hard against Peter's zipper._

_When the hunter finally pulls away, Peter's dazed and panting, and he has to take a deep breath to get himself under control._

_Chris smirks and his eyes seem to flash again. “Think about me.” And then he's gone, blending into the crowd and then disappearing._

_Peter sits down hard, eying the card in his hand. He already knows he's going to make that call._

_-_

Derek finishes his last drink and then gets up, only someone must have spilled something on the floor because it's slippery. He almost goes down, but he catches the stool with one hand, and his other arm is caught by someone very strong.

He turns to see who.

“You're stronger than you look. And you have pretty eyes.” Derek furrows a brow a minute because the kid's eyes almost looked red for a second. But now they're back to normal. He must be drunk.

“I think I'm drunk.”

The guy pats him on the shoulder gently. "You've had a long, hard day, Officer.”

“Not an officer no more,” Derek says sadly. “Not a nothing no more.”

He looks up into those eyes once more. “I didn't do it.”

It seems really important that this guy believe him. “You have to believe me, pretty boy.”

“I know, Hale. I believe you. C'mon, lets get you a cab.” The kid lets Derek lean on him, somehow manages to support the larger man easily.

“You could come with me.” Derek suddenly wants to snuggle with the guy. “Tuck me in.”

Pretty Eyes hesitates. “I thought you said you weren't interested.”

Derek suddenly remembers that he's supposed to be picking up a guy, one with a weird name.

“There's someone...” He furrows his brow trying to remember, but he can't and now he's really sad. “I've screwed everything up.”

Pretty Eyes tucks him into a cab. “Don't worry, Hale. If he loves you, he'll be able to look past all this. You're a really great guy.”

Derek reaches out and touches the guy's cheek gently. “You're too pretty to look sad.”

The guy laughs bitterly, and his eyes do that flashy red thing and then he steps back and closes the door.

Derek closes his eyes and falls asleep in the backseat.

Stiles watches the cab until it's out of sight.

-

_Peter unlocks the door and steps into his foyer, settling his stuff down and then heading into his kitchen. His eyes are drawn to the calender on the fridge, which has a series of appointments scribbled on it, except for the one day that has a circle around the numbers. It could mean anything, but in this case, that's the day that he's decided to call Chris._

_He reaches into the fridge and pulls out the orange juice, just about to pour, when there's a sudden voice behind him._

“ _Hello, Peter.”_

_The senator gives himself three seconds to have a mini-heart attack before he carefully sets the bottle on the counter, and then turns slowly. His heart is hammering, whether from the fright or the fact that it's Chris, the senator doesn't know._

“ _Chris. You're back early.”_

“ _I missed you.” The hunter steps forward, reaches out for Peter and the younger man lets him, knows that this has been a foregone conclusion since the moment he first looked into those eyes._

_Chris pulls Peter flush against him, one arm wrapping around the senator's waist, leather glove clad hand splayed across the small of his back. The other hand reaches around to hold the back of Peter's head as Chris lowers his lips onto the younger man's, gentle at first, testing the waters, but more demanding as Peter is pliant beneath him, opening up for Chris' tongue eagerly._

_Peter knows that all he has to do is pull back and shout, and the security team would come running. He finds it alluring that Chris has come here, has risked life and limb, literally, to see him._

_He settles one hand on Chris' chest to feel his heartbeat, and he can feel the body heat radiating off of him as Peter slides the other hand along Chris' shoulder until it hits a leather strap._

_The senator's heart drops as he realizes that it's a shoulder holster._

_Chris immediately lets him go and steps back. Peter finds himself aching for that warmth instantly._

“ _I should have taken them off, I just wanted to see you so badly.”_

 _The killer shrugs off his leather jacket and lays it across the table, and Peter lets himself ogle Chris as he does so, because he is_ very _nicely built. That body is a weapon in of itself, honed and tested in danger._

_Then he's distracted because Chris starts de-weaponing himself, and the senator's eyes widen at the sheer amount of hardware that's now piled up on his kitchen table._

“ _I want you to feel safe with me.” Chris' voice is low, almost a rumble as he moves back into Peter's space, and his eyes get that strange glowy shimmer to them for a half-second._

_Peter tilts his chin up. “I do.”_

_And so help him, it's the truth._

_-_

There's some sort of buzzing, and Derek swats at it but it won't stop, and it's not until he's half-fallen out of bed that he realizes that it's his phone.

It takes him three tries to get the pin right and he wonders why he even has the screen locked.

“Yeah.” His voice is harsh and ragged.

“Derek?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, Peter it's me. Sorry, rough night.” He's beginning to sound more like himself now.

“Any luck with him?”

It takes Derek a moment to think about which him Peter might be talking about. Because he suddenly has a vision of soft amber eyes looking up at him.

But no, Peter's talking about the op.

Derek is too out of it for this conversation.

“Um. No, not- not so far.”

“I'm sorry, Derek.” Peter sounds sincere. “If he doesn't come around within the next month or so, I'd say it's probably time to move on.”

Derek makes the mistake of sitting up, and he must make some sort of noise because Peter sounds worried.

“Derek, you alright?”

“Yeah, just-” He drops the phone and runs to the bathroom to be sick. Once he's cleaned himself up, he grabs his phone, but Peter's hung up.

There's a text message from him. **Enjoy your hangover. Don't do it again.**

He has absolutely no plan to. But Derek will have to keep going to the bar, of course.

Plus, he kinda owes that kid an apology.

And a thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

The room is dim, dimmer than human needs but then, of course, no one in this room is human.

Stiles enters from a door concealed in the blood red wall, strides confidently to the head of the table and flashes his Alpha red eyes.

Five sets of cold ice blue, and one soft golden, answer as they swivel towards him. It's a ritual challenge, made every time the Stilinski Pack leadership gathers. If any of them choose to challenge their Alpha by their laws, now is the time to do it.

Stiles meets every single gaze, leaving the golden one for last. At that one, he can't help but let his lips tug themselves into a grin.

“Lydia, I don't know how you do it.”

“Efficient delegation.” she answered primly, darting a look at Allison, who grins dangerously.

Stiles settles into his chair, starting with Lydia, making notes as she details the financial aspects of his empire.

Next is Danny, who is in charge of their extensive cybercrime and hacking division. Stiles only listens with half an ear, briefly distracted by the thought of sad, green eyes.

With a internal snarl, Stiles digs his claws in his palm to bring himself back to focus. Last thing he needs right now is another broken boy toy.

He turns his attention to Parrish, who's laying out ideas for their blackmarket magical item running. He thinks they should use humans for the smuggling. Stiles snorts but promises to consider it.

Danielle's report is interrupted by the arrival of Allison's father, who takes a spot behind her chair, nodding once to Stiles and then facing ahead like the good soldier he is.

Stiles rises and every eye goes to him expectantly.

“As you all know, recently there's been several attempts to get past our security. Some of them have been getting far too close. I do not tolerate failure.”

Stiles looks directly at Greenburg, and everyone follows his gaze. There's five seconds of a blank look, and the realization coming across Greenburg's face.

Before anyone realizes it, Chris Argent is right there, the Stilinski ritual sword in his hand, and Greenburg's head falls to the left, while the rest of the body falls right.

Stiles resettles in his seat as Argent begins to dispose of the body.

“In the years since The Fire,” and everyone can hear the capitals and they all know why, “the McCall pack has done their best to tear down everything that we've built. Rafael is a sneaky son of a bitch, and he got to Greenburg somehow.”

He looks around and meets each gaze once more. “Don't let it happen to you.”

Stiles snaps his fingers and the door opens, a human peering into the gloom.

“Oliver! Welcome. Are you ready to be a made man?”

Oliver runs a hand nervously through his hair, flashing a set of dimples, and then nods once.

Stiles crooks a finger. “Take your shirt off and come here.”

The man does as requested, not even blinking at the seemingly strange request. Stiles grins ferally, and he can see the blue flashing in Danny's eyes as he looks over the human.

Oliver stands in front of Stiles, who rises and tilts his head slightly up to study the blonde for just a moment. Then, Stiles cracks his neck, flashes red eyes and vicious fangs, and bites down hard on Oliver's shoulder.

The human doesn't scream, which meets the approval of the wolves at the table. He does make pained noises, however, which Stiles prevents by grabbing the shirt still in Oliver's hand and stuffing it into his mouth.

“Welcome to the Family,” Stiles says as he lets Oliver drop to the floor. “If you survive.”

He turns away from the writhing human and nods to Danielle to continue her debrief.

-

Peter yawns as he settles into his bed, sighing as a hand reaches out to graze along the chill of empty sheets where there should have been a warm body.

He hates nights like these. He's so used to having Chris there now, in his life, in his heart, and in his bed, that everything feels off, unsettled. He wishes the older man's hands were on him now, ruffling through his hair to calm him.

Instead, Peter curls up and remembers their first time together.

_Chris has him on his knees, and he's so_ anxious _, wants to do everything just right, wants to make the older man happy. And Chris can see it, chuckles softly and cards his hands through Peter's hair._

“ _So eager to please. You're going to be a good boy for me, aren't you, Peter?” And the petting calms Peter down and he nods, because Chris has not given him permission to speak yet._

_They've been training, just simple things like this, nothing to do with sex yet, and Peter's somewhat embarrassed about how hard he gets just from having Chris' hand stroke over him on top of his clothing. He's a fucking_ Senator _for chrissake, one of the most powerful people in the world._

_None of that matters when he's with Chris. The rest of the world ceases to be, and there's only the two of them together. He leans into the older man's knee again, and Chris strokes through his hair one more time._

“ _When you're ready, Peter, I want you to take your clothes off and fold them neatly on that table by the door. There's a collar there I want you to put on.” Peter takes a deep breath but listens carefully to the instructions. “Once you put that collar on, you are to kneel and stay there until given permission to move.”_

_Peter nods again, breathes in and then out, and then heads to the door. He strips to his boxers, putting everything away just so, and then runs a finger along the leather strip that seems so small but means so much. He can feel Chris' eyes burning into his back,and he takes a moment to really ask himself if he wants this kind of commitment. Because he went into that place all those weeks ago looking for a play partner. This is so much more._

_With one decisive move, the Senator slips from his last remaining clothing and snaps that collar around his neck. He slides to his knees, positioning himself just the way that Chris taught him, knees spread, back straight, eyes lowered, with palms resting on his knees. And he waits._

_Chris goes into the kitchenette of the motel suite, and Peter realizes about ten minutes later that the older man is cooking. He stays where he is, letting his mind gradually still from the nerves, and it takes him a moment to realize that Chris is leaning against the wall watching him._

_Peter flicks his gaze up and flushes at the hunger in that expression. He lowers his eyes again, just in time to hear Chris murmur softly. “Crawl to me, Peter.”_

_He does, hands and knees right across that motel room floor, and thinks nothing of what anyone might have thought, but only of making Chris proud of him. And Peter's rewarded with those strong, clever fingers stroking along his neck and the back of his head as if he were a cat._

It's still his favorite thing. Peter sighs and closes his eyes.

Chris is off, god knows where, most likely in some sort of physical danger. Certainly upping his body count. He only disappears for days like this when he's off killing people.

Peter still finds it hard to reconcile the devoted and tender man who takes such good care of him in bed and out, with the cold-blooded killer he knows his lover is.

Peter's playing a pretty dangerous game himself, using the random tidbits of information that Chris has let slip a time or two, turning them into weapons to destroy his entire organization.

Peter lays back and stares at the ceiling and wonders. Wonders if he can protect Chris from the coming storm, if the assassin will even want him afterward, if he will be killed before he sees the fruit of his labours.

He wonders if Chris has family, or if the mob is his family. He wonders how the man got into this life. There's so much he doesn't know, and even if he knew, it wouldn't matter.

Because Senator Peter Hale is in love with a mafia contract killer, and nothing's going to change that fact.

-

Derek gives up after his third drink. He doesn't want to get hammered again, and it looks like the kid isn't going to show up. The mobster that is supposed to come find him never appears either.

Derek wonders if his entire 'vacation' is going to be this boring. He falls asleep on his couch in front of a Supernatural marathon.

-

It's well after midnight when Chris crawls through Peter's window, and the senator has long since given up on trying to give him a key. He doesn't want to be seen, doesn't want to compromise Peter in any way, and the younger man finds it oddly endearing.

He can smell Chris' shampoo as the killer slides under the sheets, and Peter turns to him, orienting himself like a planet to its sun. Chris always comes right from the shower on nights that he's had to kill someone. Peter closes his eyes and tries not to think about it too hard.

Instead, he murmurs a soft greeting, lifts pliant lips up as he is tugged closer, and kissed thoroughly and at length.

Chris holds him a moment, then lets Peter turn so that the older man can wrap his arms around the Senator, can stroke his hair. Peter can finally sleep.

-

Three days later, Derek goes back to the bar.

He settles in a booth this time, and nurses a beer until it gets warm. He's just about to leave when the kid comes in, and after that, all he can do is _stare_.

The two times Derek's seen this guy before, he's been, y'know, just a regular dude, t-shirt and jeans, the like. Tonight, he's in a suit that's perfectly tailored, probably costs more than Derek makes in a year, and he's got this aura of confidence about him that the former police officer can't help but find incredibly attractive.

The kid doesn't look around, just goes straight to the back stairs, and maybe he's got one of the upstairs apartments? Because he comes down after a few minutes in street clothes.

He spots Derek right away, even though he's in the back, lurking in the shadows tonight.

“Hey,” he says with a smile as he settles across from Derek. “Been a few days. You better now?”

Derek forces a polite smile and shrugs. “I'm alright. Thanks for the other night by the way.” And then Derek realizes how that sounds and flushes all the way to the tips of his ears. “I mean for getting me a cab. And not.” He clears his throat. “Not taking advantage.”

Because, from what Derek remembers, the kid could have had him any way he wanted that night.

The guy flashes a smile and it kind of lights up the whole room, and Derek can't help but smile back.

“Hey no problem, buddy. We've all had those kind of days. Besides, I want you to remember me when I take you home.” And he winks.

Derek flushes again. _Jesus, he's so fucking terrible at this. Why the hell did he take this mission? There's no fucking way he's going to be able to seduce anyone._

“Sooo, I'm gonna grab me a drink. You want another?” Derek considers his beer and then nods. One more should be alright.

“Yeah, thanks, kid.”

That earns Derek a pout. “Kid? I'm 24, dude. Also, call me Stiles.”

He spins on his heel and heads to the bar. And good thing too, because Derek's having a mini-heart attack over here. _This is the elusive head of the most vicious crime family on the East Coast?_

He's calmed himself, mostly, by the time Stiles returns with their drinks, and he manages a smile for the guy.

“I caught you red-handed.” Stiles narrows his eyes down at Derek, who blinks up, surprised. Surely his mission can't have been compromised already, he didn't do anything- “You were checking out my ass, Officer Hale.” Oh.

Derek can't help the guilty look that crosses his face, because he kinda was, at least earlier, those suit pants had been stellar in that region. He goes for a twist on the truth.

“I'm sorry, um, Stiles. I kind of saw you in your suit earlier? And, uh..” Derek bites his lip a second. “I think those jeans don't do you justice.” He cringes internally, _because how fucking stupid and lame can you be_ , but Stiles flashes that smile again and leans forward.

“Officer Hale, you're fucking adorable.”

“Derek. Please.” He can't help the shadow of sadness in his eyes. “Not an officer any more.”

“Well, then, Derek it is.” Stiles studies him a moment. “Hey, listen, it's not my business. I mean, I'm not trying to pry, but you kind of said there was someone else the other night. And I'd really like to get with you, but I don't do the other man kind of thing.”

Derek sighs and rubs his face, mumbles a few choice swear words at himself under his breath. He summons up all the rejection and hurt that he felt when Scott had ditched him for their friend Isaac.

“There's not anyone else anymore.” He goes for a nonchalant shrug and takes a few sips of beer, because he can feel that gulf of sadness approaching.

Suddenly, Stiles launches himself from their table and reaches over, tugging at Derek's hand. “C'mon, I'll kick your ass at a game of pool.”

Derek snorts, arches a brow. “Dude. I'm pretty good at pool.”

Stiles gives him a _look_ that the former police officer interprets as 'bring-it-on', and so Derek slides free of the booth, and follows him over.

Stiles wipes the floor with him. He tries to explain to the older man about geometric angles and some other math shit, but Derek snorts and insists that he's cheating somehow. So he challenges him to darts and loses there too.

They end up in Stiles' upstairs apartment competitively playing board game after board game, and drinking all the soda Stiles has in the fridge. Derek can't remember when he's had this much fun just hanging out. He ends up passing out on Stiles' couch sometime after 2 am.

The werewolf carefully covers Derek with an throw that smells like Pack, and runs the back of his hand lightly over Derek's cheek.

Stiles heads back downstairs after locking his door carefully. He nods to the bartender, who flashes golden eyes before flipping the last call sign.

Within the half hour, the place is cleared out of strangers. And then his pack gradually straggles in through the back door or from their apartments.

The guest of honor is the last to arrive.

“Oliver!” Stiles yells above the crowd and grabs the guy in a bear hug. “I'm so happy you survived. Come meet your Pack.”


	3. Chapter 3

Derek is awoken by the loud thumping of a nearby bass amp. At first he mutters under his breath, thinking it's one of the neighborhood kids with his car radio up too loud. But when he moves and a strange scent comes to him, the hazel eyes open to look at an unfamiliar ceiling.

Right. _Stiles_.

Derek sits up, groaning as he runs his hands through his hair. He carefully folds the blanket and lays it gently across the back of the couch.

“Hey, Stiles?” Derek calls out across the apartment, but there's no answer. He wanders down the hallway, grabs the knob of the door on the end, assuming that it's the master bedroom, and opens the door just a crack.

“Hey, Stiles, I gotta run but I don't want to leave your door unlocked.” There's still no answer, and Derek figures he must be a sound sleeper to live above a club, so he flicks on the light.

Both Derek's eyebrows loft as he sees, not a bedroom, but a room with three desks, and two computer monitors on each. He starts to turn around, to shut the switch off and close the door, when he realizes what one of the monitors is showing.

Derek creeps around closer and looks into a security camera feed. All of them are showing different cameras around the club. On the second one, he sees Stiles, lifting a toast to someone and then tossing the drink back. Derek's eyes trace the long lines of that throat, imagining his mouth on it a minute before he recalls that he can't actually do that. _Undercover cop, remember, dumbass?_

He pulls out his phone, taking a short video of each of the feeds, sending them to Captain Deaton, and then deleting immediately afterward. He then goes back to the light switch, wiping it down with the hem of his tee, and waits until all the machines are powered down before using his shirt to close the door, and wipes that off as well. Derek uses the restroom next door, figuring if any evidence does get left behind, he can plausibly talk about finding the bathroom.

Since Stiles is downstairs, Derek takes the time to poke around his place, hitting paydirt when he finds a photo album tucked in a bookcase. Many of the faces that he'd seen on the grainy feeds from the club are in here. Again, he snaps photos of each one, being very careful not to handle anything, and then immediately erases his phone's history of them.

Everything is carefully returned to place, and then he tries to decide what do to next. What would a random hook up do?

_Walk of shame_. The term comes unbidden to him from his youth, and he sighs and nods. Derek does take the time to leave a note on the back of one of his business cards.

“ _Hey,_

_I don't know if you just stepped out or something, but I gotta go, sorry. Call me if you want a repeat._

_D.”_

It's kind of dumb but it gets his point across, and definitely makes it seem like he doesn't know that Stiles and his mob compatriots are right downstairs. He hopes.

Derek rolls his eyes at himself, tucks his wallet back in his pocket and walks out of Stiles' apartment and down the stairs.

-

The kids are raucous and wild, and Chris is not a fan of this music or the frenetic partying. In his time, packs celebrated with hunts, spreading out and joining together over a fresh killed carcass. He glares down into his beer as if it holds the secrets to why things always have to change.

When he looks up, Chris sees Peter's nephew on the stairs.

_Fuck._ His heart starts racing as a wave of fear hits him. _Derek was a cop, does he know about the Family? How much has Peter told him? Why is he here?_

Fortunately in the loud and sweaty club, nobody notices. 

Chris rises, thinking he's going to sneak out the back or something, when Derek looks right at him.

Chris can see the instant the recognition hits him, and he wonders if this is the moment that everything falls apart, because it looks like Derek is making a beeline for him, and how's he going to explain to Stiles how he knows the former police officer?

And then the human walks right by him, and right up to Stiles' table behind Chris. He blinks a moment and then casually turns himself to see. He's just in time to see Stiles curl long fingers around Derek's bicep, gently herding him towards the door, flashing Derek that thousand-watt smile of his.

After a second of indecision, Chris slips after them. He has to know.

He's just in time to hear Derek say something about giving him a call sometime, and to see Stiles lean in and press a chaste kiss to Derek's cheek.

Chris grimly heads back to his seat. Because if Stiles is taking it slow, he's damned serious about this one. And now the enforcer has to figure out how to handle this.

He resists the urge to ask Stiles about it when the Alpha returns. That's not something that he would normally do. Security is, however, his concern, and since Derek's difficulties with the law were all over the news, or so he's been told by his lover, Chris could conceivably mention it to Stiles, without it seeming out of character.

So, Chris finishes his beer, and spends the rest of the party going over every possible contingency.

-

The first thing Derek does when he gets home is call his uncle.

It's not until the rough, sleep-thick voice on the other line mumbles through a hello, that Derek realizes the time.

“Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't know what time it was.”

“Derek. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to take you up on having that talk.”

There's silence as Peter digests this.

“We could have dinner on Friday?”

“Text me with details. Go back to sleep. I'll see you then.”

Peter lies back down after hanging up. It can only mean one thing. Derek is in.

Which, in turn, means his days with Chris are numbered. He can already feel the panic attack rising in his chest.

He's still lying awake, worrying, when Chris climbs through his window, and the older man must sense Peter's jangling nerves because he immediately slides into bed and pulls Peter close to him.

-

Chris holds the senator for nearly an hour in complete silence, before he pulls back, caressing the younger mans' cheek. He needs it just as much as Peter does, because if Derek is going to be with Stiles, eventually the Alpha will find out about Peter. Chris is still not sure how he can protect Peter and keep him. He doesn't want to have to make that choice.

“Rough day?” His voice is tender, and Peter just nods softly, still clinging to the older man.

Chris leans forward and sinks blunt teeth into Peter's earlobe. His voice is deeper and a little rough this time as he asks, “Up for a distraction?”

The human shivers softly and breathes out a 'yes', as Chris nips along his neck. And then, in a show of strength that sends electricity right down Peter's spine, Chris tears the senators expensive silk pajamas right off his body. He snaps his fingers and points to the floor, and Peter obeys immediately, getting down on his knees, hands eagerly reaching for Chris' zipper. The werewolf is already half-hard, thickening fully as he's encased in the wet heat of Peter's mouth.

Peter is still, passive, all of his worries at bay, completely focused on pleasuring Chris. He doesn't protest when Chris slides his cock right into the human's throat and holds it there, watching intently. He repeats the maneuver until Peter's wide blue eyes are leaking tears, and he's desperately gasping for breath.

Chris tugs the younger man's head back, fingers curled tightly in his hair, and then shifts himself, laying back on the bed, legs spread. He plucks out a bottle from Peter's nightstand and tosses it on the bed.

“On the bed. You've got five minutes to prepare yourself.”

He watches Peter obey with alacrity, dazed though he is. He scrambles up onto the bed and slicks up his fingers, positioning himself so that Chris can see what he's doing. The werewolf lazily strokes himself as he watches Peter's fingers spreading himself open.

_I'm really going to miss this when it's gone._ Chris bites back a sigh at the unbidden thought, dismissing it and focusing on his boy.

Peter has just gotten to three fingers, when Chris tells him that time's up, and has him crawl closer.

“I want you to fuck yourself on me, nice and slow. So I can watch you. And Peter...” Chris looks into those glazed blue eyes. “No coming until I say so.”

Peter bites back a whimper, and does as Chris commands, gasping out softly as the head of the werewolf's thick cock slides into him, feeling that stretch and trembling. Chris ghosts his hands along the younger man's thighs, centering him with touch, and then curls them to dig blunt human nails into the pale skin as Peter finally sinks fully home. He holds him there a moment, and then pulls his hands back, murmuring soft praise as Peter moves upon him, watching the human intently.

“You're so perfect, Peter, so good for me. You look gorgeous like this.” He lets his hands roams lightly over Peter's skin, brushing across his tightening abs, running through the tight curls of his chest hair, memorizing his lover through the tips of his fingers.

Finally, Chris moves his hand to where Peter's wanted it all along, stroking him slowly and then increasing his rhythm, watching closely, stopping just as he hears that certain hitch in Peter's breath. Chris can't help the chuckle at Peter's whimper, and then he's moving, using his enhanced strength to flip them without pulling himself out of the senator.

He leans in and kisses Peter, softly and sweetly, and then Chris starts fucking into the younger man, sliding one hand between them to coil around the human's cock once again, bringing him to the edge and then stopping twice before he finally gives Peter the permission he's begging so sweetly for.

Hot ropes of come arc to splash across their bodies, and Chris pulls Peter up into a kiss as he thrusts a few more times, and then holds the human tightly to him as he finishes inside Peter.

Chris pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against the younger man's a moment before sliding out and wrapping himself around the human.

For some reason, it feels like goodbye.

-

Stiles calls Derek a couple days later, asks him to a picnic. It turns out that Stiles' idea of a picnic is a trip to his own private island, where a three course meal on his beach is waiting.

Derek's maybe a little blown away and feels incredibly awkward until Stiles threads his fingers with the older man's, and they walk barefoot in the sand with the setting sun behind them. They spend the entire flight home kissing, curled around each other on the ridiculously comfortable couch in the back of Stiles' plane.

It's not until Derek's inside his own home, one hand touching his smiling lips where he can still feel Stiles', that he remembers _this is a job_. He comes down fast and hard and spends the next hour curled up in bed, fighting off depression.

Then, the police officer gets his shit together, sends the photos he'd taken of the beach and the sunset, with all location and GPS details embedded, and forwards them on to his captain. Then he deletes those messages and lies back down until it's time to have dinner with his uncle.

-

Peter's already at the restaurant when Derek arrives. He orders a white wine and then leans back and eyes his nephew.

“You look like shit.”

Derek huffs a short, bitter laugh. “I wasn't cut out for this kind of work.”

Peter nods, starts to say something, then desists as the waiter brings their drinks. He sips quietly and then smiles sadly at Derek.

“Neither was I.”

Derek arches a brow, but Peter shakes his head. This is not a place where they can discuss this. He sees the light dawn in Derek's eyes and he nods at the younger man, pulling a gift-wrapped box out of his pocket and sliding it across the table.

“There's two gifts in here. The instructions are in red.” Peter looks around the room a minute and then smiles across the table. “Happy Birthday, kid.”

Derek glares at the box a moment, and since it's nowhere close to his birthday, he knows that it has to be something due to the case. He forces a smile and thanks his uncle and they spend the rest of their meal with inconsequential talk, until dessert is served, a white chocolate raspberry cheesecake.

“My favorite,” Derek says, pleased, and Peter offers him another tight smile.

“Mine as well. You'd be surprised how much we have in common.”

-

Derek gets home and immediately opens the box, revealing two thumb drives, one black, the other red. He pops the red one in his laptop and opens it. The instructions tell him to put the black thumb drive into Stiles' computer and download the program that is on it. Then remove and destroy. _Seems simple enough._

There's an unnamed folder next to the instructions and Derek whistles low when he opens it. It's the files of Stiles' organization, everyone they could identify from the photos he had sent, and their arrest records.

He almost drops his computer as he sees Chris Argent, _his uncle's boyfriend_ , and the string of murders he's suspected of.

“Well, fuck. That explains...” All Peter's cryptic remarks, his inside information.

_Jesus. Peter's in so much fucking danger right now._

It also explains why Peter has gone to such lengths to bring Derek in. Argent is just the hired muscle. He's not placed enough, wouldn't know enough or have access to the kind of information that can bring this tight an organization down.

And now Derek's worrying about running into Argent at Stiles' place. Should he pretend not to know him? No, because that would give it away that he knew something.

Does Stiles know about the two of them? He could put his uncle in even more danger.

Derek still hasn't resolved the problem when his phone rings, startling him out of studying the criminal records.

“Hey,” he says, smiling automatically at the sound of Stiles' voice.

“Five minutes, be outside. Wear something pretty.”

“Wait, what?” But Stiles has already hung up. And then something occurs to Derek that sends ice down his spine. _How does Stiles know where he lives?_

The police officer quickly gets dressed, hoping his outfit passes muster, tucks the thumb drive into his pocket, and then heads outside.

There's already a limousine waiting. The door is opened by the driver, and Derek climbs in to see Stiles. He's still not sure if this is a date or an execution, and his heart is beating frantically.

The werewolf lifts up a smile to Derek, and the older man's heart thumps for a different reason. _Why does he have to be so damn gorgeous?_

“You clean up very nice, Officer Hale.”

Derek flushes a bit and mumbles something about not being an officer anymore, but Stiles just reaches out and tugs him close. The Alpha spends the entire drive wrapped around Derek. By the time they arrive at their destination, Derek is flustered, and thoroughly marked as belonging to Stiles.


	4. Chapter 4

The subsonic vibration of Chris' phone buzzing wakes him from slumber. He slowly disentangles himself from around Peter, but he's not careful enough, and the senator semi-wakes, Chris can hear his heartbeart ratchet up.

“Shh,” he says gently. “Just my phone.” Peter mumbles something incoherent and lays back down, and Chris puts it out of his mind as he reaches for his jeans, already tugging them on as he answers the phone. “Argent.”

“Hey, dad.” Allison’s' voice comes clearly across the line. “Don't forget about the party tonight.”

Chris closes his eyes. He doesn't want to leave Peter. “Don't worry sweetie, I'll be there. Just text me the address.”

“See you then!”

Chris sighs as he hangs up the phone. He's been dreading this call. They've found out where Rafael McCall is going to be finally, and it's Chris' job to bring him in alive. Stiles will not allow another Alpha in his organization, so he takes those kills.

McCall's had it coming for a long, long time.

His phone buzzes with the coordinates, encoded, of course. Chris memorizes them, then disassembles his phone.

He finishes getting dressed, then goes to Peter's side, kisses him softly on the forehead.

“Work,” he whispers to those sleepily blinking blue eyes, and then smiles at the easy fall back to sleep. _I love you_ , he doesn't say, and then heads to the kitchen, where Chris crushes the parts of his phone to pieces under his heel, and drops them in the trash. Peter's maid will empty it in a couple hours, he knows.

Putting that behind him, and steeling himself for a fight with an Alpha, Chris heads out to scout the place where McCall is supposedly going to be at.

-

Derek's got a hickey on his neck that's only just barely hidden by his shirt collar, and his lips are kiss swollen. Unbeknownst to the human, he also smells of Alpha, and so he's as protected as he can get when they enter the club, fingers entwined together.

Derek gets this odd shiver when they enter the club, he feels strangely fearful, as if he'd stepped into a room of spiders, but it's just a club like any other. Except the clientele is presumably criminal. He recognizes a good chunk of Stiles' organization from their files.

There's also press here, society reporters taking pictures. Which he doesn't realize, unfortunately, until he's tugged by Stiles into one of them, which strikes Derek as very odd of the camera-shy mafiosi. And then Stiles is kissing him, _filthily_ , one hand slipping under the human's shirt, and Derek can't think past that, not until one of the reporters presses in close.

“Derek Hale?” she says, pushing a tape recorder into his face, “Are you still dealing drugs? Does your date know about your criminal record?” Another asks him what the name of his date is, a third if his uncle knows what he's been up to.

Derek had briefly forgotten about his supposed crime, the one that shoved him straight into Stiles' arms, and he's just _completely_ blindsided, stands there gaping like an idiot, filled with a mix of shame and fury.

Stiles, still wrapped around the former policeman, steps forward after eying Derek with concern, introduces himself with something so unpronounceable that Derek can't even remember it five seconds later, tells the world that he believes in Derek's innocence, and then sweeps the human away before he even knows what hit him.

They're in some sort of private back room, alone, lights dim, when Derek becomes aware of his surroundings.

“Hey, it's alright.” Stiles' voice is soothing, and Derek clings to him, buries his face in the younger man's neck, and takes a few deep breaths, centering himself.

“Thank you,” he says, in a somewhat shaky voice. Stiles smiles in return, and then licks his lips, a movement that Derek can't help but follow.

Stiles pulls him close, kisses Derek soft and sweet, runs a hand through his hair to muss it, then pulls slowly away from the kiss. Derek thinks for a second that they're going to be rejoining the party now, but Stiles is sliding down, settling gracefully to his knees as his hands reach for Derek's belt. Derek feels like he should stop this, for a multitude of reasons, but as he watches Stiles mouth his rapidly thickening cock through his underwear, Derek can't think of a single one.

With a swift movement, Stiles tugs his waistband down, and slides Derek's dick into his mouth. The older man groans aloud at the wet heat surrounding him, biting his lower lip as Stiles presses forward, as he feels the blunt head press into Stiles' throat.

Amber eyes gaze up into his as Derek's hand is lifted, brought up to settle at the back of Stiles' head, and Derek tries to summon up the willpower to stop this before it goes any further, tries to remind himself that _this is a job_. But Stiles starts moving, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks, and before he knows it, Derek is fucking hard into the younger man's mouth, hand tightening in dark locks. It's so good, and it's been _so long_ for him, that Derek finds himself on the edge in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

He makes some sort of incoherent sound, trying to warn Stiles, but the younger man seems to understand, because he moans around Derek and grips the taller man's hips tightly, and that's enough to finish Derek off. He slams forward and spasms in Stiles' mouth, feels the younger man's throat swallowing around him, and he's trembling when Stiles licks slowly along the tip, catching a last stray drop or two.

Derek's hands are shaking as he puts himself back together, flops nervelessly down onto a leather couch. He feels tremendously guilty about what just happened, and though he thought he had a pretty good poker face, something must show, because Stiles kneels in front of him, eyes wide with concern. “What's wrong?”

Derek sighs, shakes his head, forces a smile. “It's not how I wanted things to go. Us. Together.”

He's not making much sense, but fortunately Stiles interprets babble. The werewolf smiles and leans up, kisses Derek chastely. “Don't worry, babe. Our first _real_ time is going to be something very special.”

Stiles smirks as Derek's heart skips a beat and tugs the human to his feet. “C'mon, they're going to be making up all kinds of stories about what we're doing.”

Derek nods and follows Stiles back out the door, frantically worrying about how far he is actually going to have to go for this assignment.

-

Peter waits until he hears the door click, counts to one hundred, and then does it again.

He doesn't know if Chris is suspicious of him at all, doesn't know if he has any bugs planted, has to behave as if he's being watched.

So he stretches and yawns, pads sleepily to the bathroom, meanders his way to the kitchen, makes himself some tea, changes the trash with its pieces of electronic equipment in it.

He casually settles the bag by the door, and starts his day.

But when he leaves, he makes a phone call to his old friend Alan, stops by his house to say good morning. And when Peter leaves, the bag - and its evidence - stays with the police chief.

-

While Stiles and the rest of the Family are out being seen, making concrete alibis, Chris Argent is stalking down Rafael McCall, the one who ordered the fire that decimated the Stilinski line.

He's usually surrounded by Pack, so Chris - hopefully – has enough weaponry on him to take down all the betas, and incapacitate the Alpha.

He's extremely surprised when McCall shows up alone to the location. And then less surprised when McCall's all-too-human son opens the door and invites his father in. It's no secret to the Families that Rafael had killed his wife in a fit of rage when she delivered a human, but Chris is absolutely certain that no one knows he still sees his son.

Chris moves so that he can observe through the dining room window, watches McCall and son and another man - tall, curly blonde hair, presumably human as well – eat their dinner and talk, laugh, be a regular old family. It's obvious that Rafael's son doesn't know a thing about his lifestyle.

That innocence won't last.

Chris carefully sneaks forward, skirting the edge of Alpha werewolf hearing range, and as slowly as possible, he jimmies the lock on the front door of McCall's car. Chris inserts five tiny scentless wolfsbane bombs, and then carefully locks it up and withdraws.

And then he waits.

It's another hour before Rafael leaves, shakes the blonde's hand, gives his son one last hug, and then climbs into his car. Chris waits until the two humans have gone inside, and then deploys the bombs, watches McCall pass out, waits twenty minutes to make certain.

Chris carefully opens the car door, lets the polluted air clear before he dips in, swiftly secures the Alpha with magically enhanced chains, and then shoves him into the back.

With all the windows rolled down, Argent drives his victim's car to one of Danielle's chop shops. Rafael is waking up now, and Chris hurries up and muzzles him. Last thing he needs is the McCall pack summoned on a blood hunt by their Alpha.

Rafael is dumped into the trunk of another car, and driven to the warehouse secured for this task.

Chris chains him to the floor, pulls out his new burner phone, and sends a text.

One single letter, K.

-

Stiles glances at his phone as it buzzes, shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the message.

“Wrong number,” he says to Derek with a disarming grin, and then tosses the phone across the table to a beautiful woman with dark hair that had been introduced to Derek as Ally - which he knows is short for Allison Argent, the alleged head of security to the Stilinski Family.

She tucks the phone into her purse, and then excuses herself to visit the Ladies room.

Stiles tugs Derek close, a very-tipsy-by-now-Derek, and spends the next few minutes making out, enough so that the society reporters get several photographs.

At some point they must leave, but Derek doesn't notice anything until they're suddenly at Stiles' bar, up in the younger man's apartment.

Stiles is settling Derek down, this time in a king size bed instead of the couch, the last thing Derek feels as he fades into slumber, is the press of Stiles' lips on his forehead, and a strange pinch at the back of his neck.

-

_Two hours earlier..._

 

“Time to go, big guy, we got an errand to run and then I'll take you home.”

Derek chuckles and pulls Stiles close again. “Let's stay here, I'm having a great time.”

Stiles laughs. “We can have an even better time at home.”

There's some reason that Derek isn't supposed to do that, but he can't remember what it is, so he shrugs and agrees, follows Stiles out the door and into the car.

He rests his head on the younger man's shoulder, and they curl around each other for the drive.

It's not until the streetlight seems to fade, until they're rolling through neighborhoods with graffiti and broken out windows, that he becomes aware, sits up and frowns.

“Stiles, where are we going?”

“Told you, just an errand.”

There's only one errand Derek can think of, and he's drunk enough to just blurt it out. “Stiles I can't be getting drugs, I'm a _cop_ , dammit.”

Stiles snickers and then shakes his head, lifts a finger to tap Derek's nose. “ _Was_ a cop, babe. Now you're my mate, and you go where I say you go.”

Derek blinks back in confusion. Stiles' tone is light and teasing, but his words are dark and scary and Derek feels a chill run down his spine as he stares, trying to understand.

“Don't worry, my love. You won't remember a thing in the morning.”

The car stops before Derek can say another word, and he's trying to focus his alcohol addled brain as he numbly follows Stiles into the building.

It's not until the lights flick on that he realizes that there's several other people here, and a man chained to the _fucking_ floor in the center. And then he lifts his head, and Derek involuntarily takes a step backward, because there is something seriously fucking wrong with that guy's face.

He backs right into Stiles, who wraps arms like iron bands around him. “It's okay, baby, you'll get used to it.”

Stiles passes Derek off to Ally, who wraps a hand around his wrist, and she's incredibly strong, because he simply cannot break free. And then Derek stops trying as he watches Stiles stalk right up to the man-thing.

“Rafael McCall, you burned my entire family alive. You are hereby sentenced to death.”

Derek knows that name, knows that McCall is the head of an opposing family, and his stomach starts to turn over as he begins to realize what's coming next.

What he can't possibly imagine is his boyfriend growing claws and shredding his victim into pieces.

It takes far longer than Derek would have imagined. After ten minutes, he turns and is quietly sick all over the floor. Ally never lets go of his wrist.

With a howl that everyone seems to echo, that Derek feels will be ringing in his ears for the rest of his life, Stiles delivers the final blow, and the red fades from Rafael's eyes.

Stiles turns around to look at Derek, and the police officer is shocked to see his eyes are just as red, and then Stiles' face has changed, shifted to become monstrous.

Someone else grabs his other wrist, and Derek flicks a glance over to see Chris Argent. There's no recognition in the Enforcer's eyes as he helps his daughter drag Derek towards the bloodbath in the center of the room.

Derek is lifted off his feet, then displayed to the watchers in the room, and he's pretty sure he's about to die, so Derek bites his lip to keep from embarrassing himself.

Stiles is speaking in another language now, something that sounds vaguely familiar to Derek, like Spanish but not quite. And then Stiles pulls him close for a kiss and then grins as he pulls back.

Derek can see pieces of McCall spattered all over his body.

“You're my mate now, Derek, and nothing that can ever separate us again.”

Stiles is brought some clean cloths and Derek is held, as scared as he's ever been in his life, while the younger man cleans himself off, and then he comes close to Derek, reaches a hand around to the back of the human's neck.

“You just won't remember it for a little while.”

Derek cries out as claws sink into his skin, and he feels the sickening sensation of someone else in his head. He feels dizzy and sick, and then everything goes fuzzy.

-

Stiles brushes his hand through Derek's hair as he slumbers in what is now their bed.

“You are mine now, Derek Hale. Forever.”


	5. Chapter 5

Derek wakes up slowly, sleepily blinks his eyes and then realizes that he's not at home. He vaguely recalls coming home with Stiles, very drunk, and has a moment of panic as he realizes that he may have slept with the mobster.

“You wake up hard, don't you?” Stiles' mumble is lost in his pillow, and he reaches out and tugs Derek to him, resting a hand over the human's heart. “You weren't about to walk out on me, were you?”

Derek lets himself be manhandled, curled around and held in place. He tries to tell himself that it's for the job, and not because he likes the way it makes him feel, safe and protected.

“Police instincts,” he says softly. “Used to having to wake up instantly.”

Stiles kisses the back of his neck softly, and then parts his lips and suckles on the spot. Derek squirms and tries to bat him away, but Stiles is stronger than he looks, and doesn't pull back until there's a livid purple mark in Derek's skin.  
“ _Really_ , Stiles? How am I going to cover that up?”

The werewolf makes a noise almost like a purr. “You don't. You keep it so everyone knows you're taken.”

“Creep,” Derek mutters, but he can't hide the traitorous little thrill that the words give him.

-

Peter's been at work for five hours when he gets the text from Alan, innocuous on the surface, but it tells the senator that his efforts were not in vain. They've got Chris' prints and DNA, and it looks like the police will be able to retrieve most of the phone's data.

He gets a shock about a half hour later when the news comes that his old friend Rafael has been found dead. In Derek's apartment.

He calls Derek, but his nephew doesn't answer. Peter starts to get worried.

Alan is next on his list, but he hasn't heard from the undercover officer either. “I left two messages. I'll give him another hour, then I'm going to have to put out an APB.”

Peter ends the call and then closes his eyes. _Please be safe, Derek._

-

Derek has Stiles' hand in his boxers, and the younger man is grinding his hard dick against Derek's ass, and he feels anything but safe now. He'd demanded that Stiles stop, insisted on being let go, but the mafiosi isn't budging and Derek is afraid to get rough and either ruin the op, or end up very dead.

It doesn't help that his body is responding to Stiles, to his touch and his voice, low whispers of all the things that he's going to do to Derek.

The former policeman is trying to fight it, but he's got a feeling that he's been drugged with something, because none of the usual tricks work.

Stiles bites down into Derek's shoulder, and the human flinches because it damned well hurts, and he says so, loudly. The younger man ignores him, tightens his grip on Derek's cock, twists just so, while at the same time, his free hand slithers between their bodies, middle fingers, teasing lightly around the rim of Derek's hole.

And Derek senses an opening, twists his body to break free, but somehow Stiles is too quick, and now Derek is face down on the bed, wrists held at the small of his back, as the younger man focuses his attention on his own pleasure now.

Derek squirms but he can't get free, and it just encourages Stiles who gyrates his hips and grinds down harder, and then the human hears a soft moan, Stiles uttering his name softly, before he feels the hot splashes of come land on his back. He wrinkles up his nose as Stiles shudders through his completion, and then starts finger-painting Derek's body with the fluids.

Stiles rubs the come across his mate's back and then onto his ass, smacking it once and growling. “Hold still.”

Derek feels a thrill of fear at that tone of voice, and he freezes. Stiles flips him over, and smirks at seeing the human still hard.

“Want me to take care of you, baby?” His eyes get that odd red glint, and now Derek's sure he's not imagining things.

He shakes his head. “No, I'm good, need to be getting home.”

Stiles snorts, and the tugs down Derek's boxers, wraps a come covered hand around Derek's dick and starts jacking him fast, just this side of too much. Before he knows it, Derek is arching into it, rolling his hips up, thrusting into that slick grip, and Stiles is very smug when his mate finishes, spilling over his hand.

The werewolf spreads their mixed seed on Derek's stomach and chest, leaning in and nipping Derek's lower lip at the expression on the human's face. “You'll get used to it.”

Stiles leans back, tongue flicking out to lap at his hand a moment before he smiles brightly down at Derek.

“Also, you are home. You're going to live here now.”

-

Peter gives his statement about Derek's last known whereabouts, plays the concerned uncle for the press and police, and then takes the rest of the day off.

He takes a long, hot shower, but it does nothing to dispel his worry.

Chris is stretched out in his bed when Peter comes out of the bathroom. He seems to immediately sense something is off.

“What's wrong?”

Peter sighs softly. “Derek is missing. They found the body of one of my friends there.” He closes his eyes as Chris pulls him close, buries his face in his lover's neck. “I'm really worried about him. He hasn't been the same since losing his job.”

Chris sets his jaw, ice blue eyes hardening. He hadn't known that the address at which he'd been told to leave Rafael was Derek's place.

What he does know is exactly where Derek is. The Alpha had claimed him as mate last night, in the ancient ritual of their kind, using the blood of their enemies, and in front of the entire pack. And now Stiles was undoubtedly physically proving his claim, not that anyone was likely to challenge him. Still, were Chris to interrupt, it might be fairly unpleasant for him.

Then he asks himself if he's willing to go through torture for Peter. After that, it's a simple choice.

“I can find him,” he says, pressing his lips to Peter's forehead. The Senator lifts his lips to press a soft, gentle, loving kiss to Chris'.

“Thank you.”

-

“Stiles, you can't keep me here. I have things I need at home!” Derek shifts as his shirt sticks to his skin. “Like a shower,” he mutters under his breath.

He's been allowed to get dressed, but not clean himself off, and he's over his fright, and now he's just annoyed. Derek wants his shower and his own bed, and all his stuff.

“Make a list,” Stiles says dismissively, “I'll have it brought here.” He's wrapped up in something on his laptop, and Derek runs a hand through his hair in frustration, and tucks his hands in his pockets. And then he feels the thumb drive, and has a moment of panic and then relief at it somehow not being found.

Stiles frowns up at him, and then offers a soft smile. “Look, you can go out once you smell right. Until then, you stay here.”

Derek grits his teeth, waffling between the directive of the job, and his personal needs, and then he just says fuck it, and stomps out of the bedroom. He gets three steps before Stiles has his hands on Derek's shoulders, and is pulling him backwards. Derek swings, which Stiles easily ducks, and then uses the momentum to shove the human back into the bedroom, and into the bed.

Stiles pins Derek, cuffs his left hand to the bed frame, and then narrows amber eyes down at him. “You stay there or I _will_ break something next time.”

He's suddenly distracted by something, because his attention shifts sharply to the outside room, and Stiles points imperiously at Derek before stomping out of the room.

Derek huffs a sigh and glances around the room. And sees that Stiles has left his computer on and open. Quickly picking the lock on the cuffs – seriously who cuffs a cop?-, Derek grabs the thumb drive and shoves it into the side port, double clicks on the download, and starts praying.

It takes ten seconds and then Derek rips the drive out, flops back on the bed and re-cuffs himself. He needn't have worried. Stiles is gone for almost a half hour.

Derek is dozing lightly when the younger man returns, wakes fully to Stiles' mouth on his. “Alright, Sleeping Beauty, you're going to get to go home after all.” He gives the undercover cop a hard look. “You were on an overnight, spur-of-the-moment trip and you forgot your phone in your car.”

The device in question is tossed into his lap as Stiles unlocks the cuffs. “Don't forget it.”

Derek turns the phone on to see nine missed calls and four messages. “What the fuck...”

-

Chris limps down the stairs, cradling his broken arm. All in all, he's gotten off easy. Once he'd gotten over his ire at being interrupted, Stiles had listened as his Enforcer had explained that the police and the Senator were all looking for Derek, and unless he wanted a full out manhunt, Stiles was going to have to let him give a statement.

Chris can't climb into Peter's window with his arm useless, so he goes to his own little den. Gritting his teeth, he pulls the bones of his arm back into place and wraps it up as best he can, and then grabs a few bottles of whiskey from his stash. It'll take about three of them to put him out, and right now, that's all he wants.

He'll be seeing Peter later tonight.

-

Derek breathes a sigh of relief as he locks the car door. Finally, blessedly alone.

He drives to the station, swearing softly under his breath as he listens to all the messages, and nearly running a red light as he hears the name of the corpse.

_Scott's dad._

Naturally, his ex and the pretty new boyfriend – no, fiance, Derek sees the matching rings – are at the station. It's weird but Derek is sincerely sorry and he says so, and gives the other guy, Isaac, a nice firm handshake, plays as nice as possible.

He doesn't know anything, and tells his fellow officers so, repeats the story he was given, and then is left alone in the interrogation room while the paperwork is being done. Derek knows the drill, and so he calmly and patiently waits, though all he wants is a long, hot shower.

Captain Deaton comes in, shuts the camera off, passes Derek a note and sits across the table from him. Derek opens the folded paper to see 'We got him'. He takes a deep breath and leans back. _It's over._

-

Peter picks him up at the station, takes Derek to his house. They don't talk about Stiles or Chris.

Derek takes a long shower after dinner. Peter goes to bed and curls around the pillow that Chris always uses.

In the morning, they both dress in suits and head to meet with their lawyer and a judge to give their full and complete statements.

They are both held in protective custody for six hours after that until Stiles and Chris are both found and arrested.

Derek and Peter walk into the arraignment together, the wolves turning to watch them walk in. They whisper together, which has Derek nervous, but Peter squeezes his arm.

“There's nothing they can do now.”

-

“They're magnificent, aren't they?” Stiles' eyes glimmer with just a hint of his Alpha redness as he and his Enforcer watch their mates enter together, murmuring softly so that only Chris can hear him. “They managed to successfully infiltrate our Family, lie to both of us for months, and pull off a sting operation on their own. What mates they will make.”

Chris had come clean to his Alpha about Peter, but since it had brought Derek to him, Stiles was mostly forgiving.

“Lydia and Allison are acquiring a new place for us. Danny will handle the paperwork.” Stiles grins at his compatriot. “Tonight we leave this town for good.” The amber gaze flicks back to the Hales. “And we're taking them with us.”

Chris nods softly, desperately trying to catch Peter's gaze, but the Senator won't look at him. He sighs softly and turns around to pay attention to the proceedings.

-

It takes Stiles and Chris exactly seven minutes to break free of their imprisonment that evening. Oliver is waiting outside, no longer the anxious human in the employ of the mob. Now he's a sleek predator, and Stiles claps him on the back approvingly as he hands the elder duo burner cells and changes of clothes that smell like Pack.

Both phones chime with coordinates and Stiles nods to Chris. “You get your Hale, I'll get mine. Oliver already has what's left of the McCall pack there. We have,” Stiles glances at the new cell, “an hour.”

Chris nods, and he and Stiles start running as Oliver takes off in the other direction.

-

Chris' arm is still healing, and so he simply rings the front doorbell. Stiles leans against the side of the house, and watches for the police car that he knows will be circling the block in 8 and a half minutes.

Peter comes to the door rubbing his eyes, clad in just pajama pants, obviously expecting the security detail. Chris and Stiles are inside, and Chris is crowding Peter up against the wall before the Senator can even blink.

“How.. Chris.. You can't..”

Chris forestalls the protests by smothering them with his lips, holding Peter in place and kissing him until he feels the human start to react. Only then does he pulls back. “You're mine, Peter, and I'm not leaving you behind.”

“Chris, be reasonable..”

“No,” the werewolf says simply, lifts Peter's collar and secures it around the younger mans' neck.

-

Stiles stalks past the older duo, follows Derek's scent to where he's sleeping, curled up in the guest bed. He leans down and kisses Derek awake, smirking at the myriad emotions that flit across the human's face.

“When I say forever, I mean it.”

Derek quickly reaches for the little remote that calls the security team, but Stiles knocks it away before he can grasp it. “None of that now, we've got a time constraint.”

Derek scoots across the other side of the bed, but Stiles jumps across the room, and gets there first. “I will throw you over my shoulder if I have to.”

Turns out, he has to.

The Alpha wanders out with his mate hogtied over his shoulder, nods to Chris who's got his leashed. Chris grabs his phone and calls for a car.

-

Before their hour is up, the wolves are at the location. Chris hands Lydia his mate's leash, and Peter silently settles at her side. He won't look Derek in the face.

Derek is handed off to Danny, who eyes the trussed up human, but desists when he gets a stern glare from his Alpha.

The Hales are positioned so that they can see into the center of the large room, where there are at least thirty people chained. Derek starts in surprise as he sees Scott and Isaac among them. He yells into his gag, and Stiles glances to him, follows his mate's gaze and narrows his eyes.

Derek's attention is taken wholly by Stiles in the next minute as he lifts his chin and roars loud enough that all the humans in the room flinch away. As he paces around the people, Derek can see his eyes glowing very bright red, and the transformation of his face.

The cop's gone past anxiety straight into fear.

Stiles picks someone from among the chained, seeming at random, and hauls her to her feet.

“Your Alpha,” he says in a ringing voice, “is dead at my hand, your pack vanquished.” The words have a rhythm to them that seems ritualistic. “Yield to me or follow your Alpha.”

She lifts her chin, stares the rival Alpha in the face, and chooses death.

Stiles looks to Chris, who comes forward, not with the sharpened heirloom sword of the Stilinski Pack, but with a dull, rusty hacksaw.

Chris gives her the choice again as she eyes the tool in his hands. “Join or die.”

Her eyes flash golden as she chooses to join her Alpha in purgatory.

It takes her a long time to die.

-

By the time Stiles gets to Scott, he has seven new betas and over twenty corpses.

“I don't understand what's going on here,” Scott pleads before Stiles can speak. “I'm not part of any of this, I barely knew my dad.”

“As long as you live, there's someone for the McCalls to rally around.” Stiles seems genuinely sorry as he pulls the Family sword and gives Scott a swift death.

Last is Isaac, and Stiles studies him in silence a long moment. Big blue eyes meet Alpha red ones and hold. The Alpha steps forward and slices Isaac's shirt with his claws. The human lifts his chin in defiance, obviously expecting to die.

Instead, Stiles bites him.

As Isaac lay writhing on the floor, Stiles lifts up a roar again. “The McCall pack is no more.”

His Pack cheers him, and then he nods to the blood spattered Enforcer, who turns to face Peter for the first time. Lydia pushes Peter to his hands and knees as Chris crooks a finger.

Senator Peter Hale crawls across the warehouse floor.

He is lifted by Chris' strong arms, and Derek looks away as the older man begins chanting and turning in a circle. His chin is gently lifted and reset by Danny as Stiles glides predatorily towards him, reaching a hand around and sinking claws into Derek's neck. The human stiffens as the memory comes roaring back, of his time like this with Stiles, and his hazel eyes stare, shocked, into the younger man's.

Stiles loosens Derek's bonds, figuring the man knows better than to try to escape, and forces him to his knees. He strokes a hand through the dark hair, and murmurs softly to Derek.

“He's claiming Peter as his mate, just as I claimed you.” Derek stiffens at what he's seeing, and Stiles smirks as he watches Chris disrobe Peter and force him to hands and knees.

"What the hell _are_ you people?"

"Werewolves, Derek." Stiles' eyes glow red down at him. “Don't worry, beloved. Ours will be a much more private affair. No one is going to dispute the Alpha's claim. Now Chris, on the other hand, he's got to prove himself in front of the Pack.”

Stiles crouches down, runs a hand along Derek's side teasingly. “Looks to me like your uncle is enjoying himself.” He wraps his arms around Derek, rests his head on top of the human's, and watches Peter get despoiled in front of everyone.

Chris already has three fingers inside Peter, and the human is absolutely _not_ thinking about what Chris used to get himself slick. He's too focused on the burning stretch there, Chris' other hand wrapped around his cock, and the dozens of eyes all around watching him.

Chris isn't taking his time like usual, normally he's careful and tender. This is not about Peter's pleasure though, this is a _claiming_ in every sense of the word, and when the older man pushes himself within, Peter is still not ready.

He whimpers softly as his head is pushed down to the floor, as Chris starts thrusting hard, hands scrabbling on the floor as he instinctively tries to crawl away. Chris leans forward, plasters himself over Peter's back and ruts into him ruthlessly.

Chris shifts and strikes that special bundle of nerves inside Peter, and then the harsh fucking starts to feel good, and his flagging erection recovers. Chris starts moving the hand that had been holding Peter's dick, and now he can feel the electric rush to orgasm building.

The werewolf slides his hand along his mate's length as he slams himself into Peter, and just before he's about to finish, Chris extends his fangs, and sinks them down into the back of Peter's neck.

Peter cries out, as the bite and his finish hit him at the same time, and he's spilling hotly into Chris' hand as the older man pulses inside him.

Chris takes two deep breaths, and then pulls away abruptly, roaring out into the room. Peter collapses as Chris dares anyone to challenge his claim.

He lays there in a pool of blood...and other fluids, as Chris tears apart the lone challenger. Peter never even looked up to see who it was. 

He automatically wraps his arms around Chris' neck as the wolf lifts him in a bridal carry, and takes him from the area, not even noticing when the rest of the pack starts to disperse.

All Chris is thinking about is the faint tingling of the bond that's he's initiated, and of getting Peter somewhere safe so that he can take care of him.

Stiles watches them go, and then smiles brightly down at his human.

“Time for us to cement our bond, Derek.”

-

Derek's expecting what Peter got. He couldn't be more wrong. They fly to a remote cabin, just the two of them, and Stiles spends the next two days pampering Derek in every way possible.

It's not until their third day there that Stiles kisses him with intent, ignoring Derek's half-hearted attempts to delay even further.

Stiles is insistent, but thorough, he spends what seems like hours getting to know Derek's body, finding out what he likes and doesn't. He finds out Derek has very sensitive nipples and teases at them with fingers and mouth until they're puffy and tender. He spends ages eating Derek out, slowly building from light teasing swipes to tongue fucking him. Stiles brings Derek to the edge of orgasm three times, until the older man is trembling with need, before he finally slides himself home.

Stiles wraps around his mate tightly, holding there inside Derek for a long moment before he lifts a hand and wraps it around Derek's cock, sliding back and forth, slowly building the human up once again, but this time, he brings Derek to completion, all the while fucking him lazily.

As soon as his mate is done shuddering, Stiles wraps his hands around Derek's hips tightly and chases his own release, biting down into Derek's neck just as Chris had done to his uncle.

The bond is stronger for an Alpha, even Derek can feel it settle into place, linking them as Stiles fills Derek with his come.

Instead of pulling out when he's done, Stiles holds himself there, shifts them both onto their sides and clings tightly to Derek. The Alpha carefully licks the bleeding mark he made, the one that will be with Derek forever, and then rests his cheek against the older man's ear and whispers softly to him.

“I love you, Derek.”

A single tear slides unnoticed down Derek's cheek and drops onto the sheet.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration: I Just Want You by Ozzy Osbourne
> 
> Please let me know if I need to tag anything.  
> 
> [Tumblr](goddessofcruelty.tumblr.com)


End file.
